


Parental Instincts

by cottontails



Series: Calling it even [2]
Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Fluff, Just some wholesome Donald appreciation, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-27 20:47:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30128604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cottontails/pseuds/cottontails
Summary: Parental instincts are something that will never leave him as long as he lives. Even when the kids are all grown and he’s old and grey, he’ll still be a dad. And those Instincts will forever wake him up at the feeling of someone crawling into bed with him. No matter how deep a sleep he had been in moments before.
Series: Calling it even [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2217399
Comments: 29
Kudos: 148





	Parental Instincts

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little fluff-filled follow on from 'in a heartbeat'. I needed to write something tooth-rottingly sweet after that angst-fest.

Donald sleeps in the mansion that night. They get back pretty late and frankly, everyone’s too exhausted to do anything other than drag themselves to their respective beds and pass out. There’re more than enough spare rooms for the non-residents, and after a few arguments and coin-flips for the best rooms (courtesy of Drake and Fenton), everyone settles quite quickly. 

After dozing off on his shoulder on the plane, Donald ends up picking up both May and June and carrying them inside, tucking them into a twin room next to his. They barely stir, only waking long enough to pull the blankets up further and curl up tighter before dropping back off.

Despite his own exhaustion, Donald makes the rounds, checking in on all the kids and making sure they’re all truly safe and sound. He’s not entirely sure he’d be able to sleep soundly until he’d seen each and every one. Which, with the number of children in the house now reaching the double digits, now takes a little while longer than it used to. By the time he reaches his own bed, the tiredness has really sunk in to his bones, and he doesn’t even bother changing before crawling under the covers and dropping into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Which lasts about forty-five minutes.

Parental instincts are something that will never leave him as long as he lives. Even when the kids are all grown and he’s old and grey, he’ll still be a dad. And those Instincts will forever wake him up at the feeling of someone crawling into bed with him. No matter how deep a sleep he had been in moments before.

These instincts also double as survival instincts. Good luck to anyone trying to sneak up on him while he’s sleeping. 

So, when he feels the all too familiar feeling of the mattress sinking as someone else climbs up next to him, it's all he can do not to groan and possibly curse a little. Chances are it was one of the boys, most likely Louie, and honestly, after the ordeal of the day he'd hardly be surprised.

What does surprise him is turning over, blearily opening his eyes and seeing none other than his own sister attempting to get comfortable in the very small space between him and the edge of the bed.

"Dell?"

There’s a long silence, then, "no?" She's got a look on her face that even in the dark, he knows all too well, a weird mixture of guilt, worry and stubborn pride. And after the frankly traumatic events of the past twenty-four hours, he can't really say he's surprised.

"Hold on," he murmurs, shuffling over and giving her more room to get comfortable. She doesn't say anything, but he can see the gratefulness in her eyes as she curls up on her side and faces him. Her hair splays out on their shared pillow and tickles his nose. 

"Sorry, I didn't want to wake you."

"It's alright," Donald replies, fighting back a yawn, "are you okay?"

"Couldn't sleep, kept seeing..." she trails off, but Donald knows what's eating at her. She'd barely left his side all evening, always finding excuses to touch, to make sure he's still really there; always linking arms, throwing an arm over his shoulder, or playfully punching him. He didn't comment, knowing how much his near-death experience had actually affected her. But moments like this show her true feelings with no reason to hide.

"I'm alright you know."

"I know you are, but every time I close my eyes all I can see is you falling, and my chest gets all tight and I can't breathe, and you're not there, I keep thinking I dreamt you coming back."

She looks like she's going to cry again, and he wants none of that. His hand finds hers under the blankets and he links their fingers and squeezes.

"Right here," he tells her, "I'm right here, we're all very much alive and safe, you don't need to worry."

She's quiet, looking into his eyes with an intense stare. He can see the anxiety, can see the worry, and the pain. He gets it; he won't pretend he didn't hear her scream as he fell. The sound still echoes in his head, but by miracle and magic, he's still alive, and they're still together. And if he’s honest, he’s definitely had more than his share of sleepless nights over her in his time too. He gets the feeling _very_ well.

"We should get some sleep," he says eventually, pulling the blanket up over her shoulder. He waits until she's completely fallen asleep, her face relaxing and breathing evened out, before closing his eyes and dropping off himself.

This time he barely gets twenty minutes, the time on the clock by the bed reading 02:07am.

Another body, much smaller, climbs up from the end of the bed, and slowly crawls up between them. It's always harder to tell between them in the dark, but when he had tucked them in he’d noticed they hadn't bothered getting changed. And Donald could just about make out the hood.

Louie then.

"You alright?" he whispers, and the small body freezes, wide eyes staring at him in the dark.

"I- uh-"

"It's alright, c'mon."

Louie relaxes at the soft tone and warm smile, and carefully carries on until he's tucked into the space just under Donald's chin. He wraps his free arm around him and rubs his back like he always used to when they were younger.

"Comfortable?"

Louie just nods into his chest.

Again, Donald waits until the boy has fallen asleep before trying to get a little sleep himself.

He doesn't even get that far.

Huey and Dewey don't say anything as they settle in; Huey tucking himself in between his stomach and Louie, and Dewey stretches out between Della and him.

"We all good?" Donald asks, watching them get comfortable with an amused smile.

They both nod, and Donald grins; they can finally all get some sleep.

An hour later and he's really starting to hate these instincts he's come to rely on all these years.

He has to say he's surprised to see Webby pulling herself up and finding a space to curl up just below the boys. Lena and Violet join her only minutes later, the three of them ending up curled up together in the space between his and Della’s knees. He doesn’t say anything, opting just to let them nestle down and go to sleep.

Next to join the party, and most surprising of all, is May and June.

He’s woken by the creak of the door, and manages to twist his head around enough to see the two girls stood anxiously by the door, hands clasped as tightly as his and Della’s, now squashed under a pile of children. He doesn’t bother checking the time, it’s still dark, and at this point he doesn’t care, he’s just going to stay in bed until he’s no longer bone-tired.

Honestly, he’s not entirely sure where they could fit, it’s not a massive bed, not a single, but not quite a double either. And it's already got seven more occupants than it should. But he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try.

“There’s still space,” he whispers, gesturing them over, “somewhere.”

They don’t move, glancing nervously at each other, then back at him.

“Come on, it’s alright.” He stretches out an inviting hand, smiling when they take a cautious step towards him. “you guys are family now, just find a space and squeeze in.”

They end up tucked into the crook of his knees, curled up tightly together and using his leg as a pillow. He smiles, reaching down and smoothing their hair. They smile gratefully, closing their eyes and settling down.

Again, Donald waits until their breathing evens out in sleep. That should be all of them now, and he’s so very, very tired. He drops his head back to the pillow, takes a deep, calming breath, and closes his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> I've got the next morning half-written, but I can't figure out how to end it, will try later and maybe add another chapter.


End file.
